Skate and Destroy
by april09-TW
Summary: Edward wanders into Bella's neighbor's yard and discovers an empty pool. Is this meeting an accident or premeditated? Entry for the Boys on Boards contest.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This was an entry for the Boys on Boards contest: www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/2956623/Boys_on_Boards_Contest**  
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**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I still harbor a fascination with skater boys that stems from my preteen years. The title of this story **_**Skate and Destroy**_** comes from the Thrasher magazine motto and the song by The Faction of the same name.  
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Skate and Destroy logo: typophile(dot)com/node/44715

_Skate and Destroy_ by The Faction: www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=L7EkuGCfkYI

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><p><strong>Skate and Destroy<strong>

The night is sticky, the humidity thick despite the fact that my window is wide open and both fans are on. My tank top is damp and I brush a cool washcloth over my face once again, my mother's trick for keeping cool. After tossing and turning three more times, I slip on a pair of cotton shorts before tiptoeing down the hallway.

My parents' door is closed in spite of the heat, and though I don't want to think about what that means, I hear nothing but the whir of fan blades spinning throughout the house. Satisfied, I sneak down the stairs, skipping the third one down and exit through the sliding door in the kitchen, out the side yard into the adjoining yard.

The night is quiet and still, nothing disturbing the heat wave that has overtaken our area. I don't bother with a flashlight as I know the route so well. Besides, there is an almost full moon out, incandescent and yellow, no clouds obstructing its light. I can almost believe that Jake will be waiting for me on the back porch, or if he isn't, I can stealthily knock on his window without waking his dad.

The heat must be playing tricks with my hearing because I hear a familiar sound coming from Jake's backyard. Wheels on concrete, then silence as a board catches air then wheels pounding back down, heeding the call of gravity.

The night is long and I must be more tired than I originally thought. In the side yard, I lift the upside down flowerpot and snag a smoke and the lighter, Jake's Zippo, left behind for my use.

As I turn the corner, I realize that my ears _are_ correct. Only instead of deep russet skin and jean shorts and long dark hair flying through the air and streaming down towards the bottom of the empty pool, I see a blur of black—lit up only by the moon—a flash of brown hair and the palest arms I have ever seen. Likely because of the humidity, this skater boy's skin seems luminescent itself, almost as if he is…shimmering?

"Hey," the stranger nods as he skates off the upper lip of the pool and flips up his board gracefully into his left hand. _Hey_, as if he isn't trespassing on private property, or even wondering if _I_ am.

I raise one of my eyebrows at him in response and sit down on the top of the back porch steps to light my smoke. He shakes his head slightly, then joins me on the step, eyebrows furrowed slightly.

As he gets closer, I realize his hair is actually in between brown and red.

"I'm not sharing," I say.

"I wasn't asking you to."

"You make a habit of skating in other people's yards?"

"You make a habit of smoking in them?"

"This is my friend's house."

"_Was_," he smirks. _Smirks_, as if someone losing his house is a funny thing. "I believe it's bank-owned now."

"They're trying to get it back," I mumble, uncertain why I feel the need to defend Jake, or the need to explain anything to this stranger at all."

"How do you know it's not already too late?"

I finish my smoke in silence. Smirky Skater Boy eyes me in the same silence until he shrugs his shoulders and skates down into the pool again.

Despite myself, I admire his smooth lines as he perfectly executes a series of moves that Jake would be excited to see. I replace Jake's lighter under the clay pot and find my way back to my stifling room.

The night is sultry. Dark, damp and damning.

-0-

For some reason, I dream about him and it annoys me. It's a blue-tinted dream and his features are sharp though everything else in the picture is not. The smirk is the same, though his words not in the realm of arrogant asshole that was the reality of our nighttime meeting. What would _he_ know about Jake and his parents' struggle to pay for their mortgage over the last year? Though his clothes were worn down to perfection, I still noticed the high-end brand of his jeans, the expensive new shoes. Old school Vans that weren't even made anymore, so likely special-ordered. And vintage Tony Hawk board that he used as if it isn't worth as much as it is. I know; I have one that was my dad's back in the day.

In my dream, we're in a meadow. Yeah, a meadow. It reminds me of the valley floor just beyond Yosemite Falls where I went on vacation with my parents last year. Except, instead of being surrounded by gushing waters and vertical inclines of rock wall in the semi-distance, we're surrounded by trees. Large moss-covered decaying trees. There are various shades of green and brown surrounding us, including the bright jade color of his eyes. These hues are muted by the cerulean tint of my dream, making the blue of the meadow flowers stand out in further contrast. Skater boy and I are talking, but I have no idea what we are saying, just that we are leaning into each other as we speak. He lifts one of his hands to my face and gently grazes my cheek with the back of it. Even in my dreams I can almost feel the tingle and the coolness along the left side of my face. I look up and that's when I see the beauty of his dark green eyes, with flecks of warm amber.

Only, I don't think that Skater boy's eyes are really green.

-0-

I reach towards the back of my closet for this dark blue peasant top my mom bought me last year. She found it at a thrift store and I've never worn it because though it is second hand, it actually is made by some fancy designer, which seems like such a contrast to the bohemian look of the shirt. Today, however, I shrug that off and revel in the softness of the material. I throw on my jean shorts for good measure and grab a bucket and sponge and housecleaner.

The shorts are a save from last year when Jake decided that I needed to learn how to skate. His dad had just lost his job and his mom was at the clinic for her latest infusion of chemo. Even though I can't walk a flat surface without tripping, who was I to say no? Though he insisted I wear knee pads and a helmet, I still managed to rip up my favorite pair of jeans, up almost the entire left side. So, now they're my favorite pair of shorts, and they're much better than the jean shorts that Jake and his friends like to wear.

Jake insists on skating in what amounts to jean short capris and nothing else. Usually he is barefoot as well. Yeah, I know it's not usual skatewear, and I often snort at how ridiculous he looks. But, he's his own person, or wolf, or whatever. Yeah. Have I mentioned that my best friend is a _werewolf_? Okay, technically a _shapeshifter_ not a werewolf, but still.

Sometime around a year and a half or so ago, Jake started getting really good at throwing tricks even though he was going through a crazy growth spurt. He stopped wearing safety gear and never seemed to hurt himself. I found out on a night of a full moon…the night of our first and _last_ kiss that we never _ever_ talk about. Suffice it to say that the night ended with me in the E.R. with three partially fractured fingers. It turns out that you can't really punch a werewolf if you're human.

I carefully balance myself as I climb up the ladder to the treehouse and carry up the cleaning supplies. Jake and I haven't been up here in at least a year so it's likely musty and moldy inside. It's already hot inside since I slept until midday after my late night smoke with the skater boy. Okay, not _with_ him since he just watched me smoke in silence and I watched him skate. I open the door and leave it open, then hold my breath as I walk across to open the window of the little house.

My dad and Jake's dad built this house when we were six, shortly after Jake came to live with them. They went a little overboard, as I was clumsy even then, and built a platform to pull up onto, a door that opens and closes, and a real window inside. Our moms made purple curtains to decorate the window, my favorite color at the time.

I push aside the faded curtain on both sides, so I can see clearly inside the tree house. At least that's what I tell myself. The view from the window is Jake's backyard—I can see perfectly when or_ if_ Skater Boy decides to return. What made him decide to go there last night in the first place? The house has been empty for weeks. Why _now_?

After I scrub down all the surfaces of the treehouse, including the floors and the table and wooden chairs, I haul the cleaning supplies back down and return with a book and a lemonade bottle. It's so hot that I don't feel like eating or bringing food up the ladder, choosing to wait until dinnertime instead.

I'm halfway through the novel when there is a knock on the platform and then on the door.

"Come in, Mom," I say, figuring she must be home from work. When the knocking persists, I get up and glance out the window on my way to the door. The pool is still empty, no one defying gravity in its depths, and the sky is slightly darker. The summer days are long so we are nowhere near twilight, but the bright yellow sunshine of the day is melting into a dimmer, duskier orange.

"Mom?" I say as I open the door, knowing Jake would just walk right in.

It's not my mom. It's Skater Boy. He's wearing a faded black hoodie over his head, even in this heat, and sunglasses.

"Hi," he says. "Can I come in?"

"How did you know—"

"I've been waiting for you to answer the front door," he interrupts, starting to walk into the treehouse before pausing. "Then I thought you might be in the backyard."

"Oh. Come in." _Did he check Jake's yard first?_ He steps in as soon as I invite him, and shucks his hoodie and shades just as I'm about to ask him how he can stand to wear it. His amber colored eyes bore into me. I was right; they aren't green, but they are still beautiful. The day is as sultry as the night, especially here in the treehouse.

"That color suits you," he says, gesturing to my peasant top, the color of my dream. My dream about him.

I blush, of course. "Thank you." He steps back towards the now closed door as I fidget with my hair and pull it up into a ponytail. The gesture must disturb him because it's so silent in here, just like last night, and his eyebrows are furrowed as if it must smell in here, even though I have just scrubbed the whole place clean. Must be the scent of the cleanser. Unless, well, I must not smell all that great either after all that physical work in this heat.

"I, ah, I came to apologize," he says quickly, after several moments have passed.

"Okaaay," I drag out, uncertain as to what he's referring to.

"About your friend," he gestures his head towards Jake's house. "I made some rude comments and I wasn't raised like that."

"You don't know him," I shrug, as if his apology doesn't matter, but it does.

"Well, I'm sorry anyway. It was awfully rude. I'm sure you're…upset that he isn't your neighbor anymore. And I brought you this." He pulls out a wrapped sandwich from the pocket of his hoodie and hands it to me. I place it next to my book and unwrap it carefully, suddenly hungry. It's a cream cheese, tomato, lettuce and sprouts sandwich from Ida's café. I'm shocked. Perplexed. Maybe even a little suspicious.

"How did you know this was my favorite?"

He shrugs. "I didn't. I hope it's okay?"

"Are you vegetarian too?" I ask, before taking a bite.

He laughs at my question for some reason. "Uh, yeah."

"Well, thanks for the sandwich. You want half?"

"No, thank you. I'm Edward Cullen, by the way."

"Bella Swan."

I tell him about the glory days of the tree house, when Jake and I would spend hours playing board games and building Lego castles. He tells me about his adopted siblings and their own Lego adventures.

"Is Cullen your real last name then?" He stares at me for a moment, long enough for me to backpedal. "I mean…are you adopted as well? Jake is…and he kept his last name because of his heritage."

"Heritage?"

"Um, yeah. Jake is Quileute and his adopted parents are Pomo and Chumash." What I don't tell him is that Jake was in the foster system for quite a bit because they wanted him specifically to be adopted by Native American parents, even if they were from a different tribe.

"Quileute," he says slowly.

"Native American."

"No, I know," he shakes his head slowly as if contemplating something, then continues. "My last name is Masen. Edward Anthony Masen Cullen." He smiles then, the left side of his lips higher than the other, and I can't help but smile back.

We talk until the sun sets, watching the sky transform from dim orange to a more muted lavender and pink. Even though he's sitting in the shade of the curtains, the colors dance across Edward's face, reminiscent of my last night's dream, only instead of cornflower blue, Skater Boy is tinted in the faded pink of the twilight sky.

-0-

I never know what's going to happen on the night of a full moon. Because of that, I usually spend those nights at home. If my dad is on the late shift, my mom and I will watch sitcoms or movies until we drift off to sleep. Never something in the scary-horror-suspense genre.

In truth, nothing ever really happens on the night of a full moon, except for the night I broke my fingers. Well, nothing happens that I know about anyway.

This night is no different, except I have the urge to go to Jake's backyard to see if Skater Boy is there. I'm still uncertain as to why he prefers to skate there instead of at the local skate park, but maybe he prefers to skate alone.

When I hear the sound of wheels on concrete, I excuse myself from the dinner table and head on over. The heat of the day has dissipated early, a much needed break in the heatwave. Clouds have come in with the breeze, lining up so that they are indistinguishable from one another, just one long stream of greyness on the horizon.

I pop open Jake's gate with a loud clang, not needing to be quiet since it's not the middle of the night. As I turn the corner, I realize that there is the more than one skater in the pool as there are several sounds of wheels. Sure enough, there is a girl sitting on the edge, wild, wavy red hair vibrant despite the greyness of the day. She gives me a smug smile as two skaters fly up opposite ends of the pool on their boards and glide back down. The one with long black dreadlocks seems to do a 900 or more, but it doesn't seem possible, yet his hair whips around so quickly that I can't count the rotations. The other one—wearing a leather jacket even though the evening is still warm—rides the upper lip of the pool, glances right at me with a quick smile then skates back down the side.

Sooner than I would think possible, they are both out of the pool and have tossed their boards over towards the grass and are walking towards me. No one is breathing, including me. The only sound I can hear is the spinning of the wheels before they are muffled.

"Um, are you friends of Edward's?" I manage to say.

"No," says a voice behind me. Skater Boy.

"We've got dibs," the girl says, licking her lips.

"The hell you do," Edward snarls back.

Then out of nowhere, Jake and his friends are between all of us. "Run, Bella," he says. I'm not sure what to do or what is happening now so I go on instinct and listen to Jake. Only as I run back towards the gate, I trip on somebody's board and am falling quickly. There are sounds of shredding clothes, snarling, shouting, growling and the world has turned upside down. _Am I dreaming?_ I land with a sharp thud on the ground and notice blood oozing from my forearm and bone sticking out.

Suddenly Skater Boy is by my side, holding my arm carefully but all I smell is metallic blood, red oozing everywhere, and then everything is black.

-0-

_Beep._

Everything is fuzzy.

_Beep._

My mom is holding my hand. My _good_ hand.

_Beep._

Loud noises and crying.

_Beep._

Open reduction surgery.

_Beep._

No Jake or Edward.

I awake from the anesthesia to a dark hospital room with my mom by my side. "How are you feeling, Sweetie?" she says.

"Okay," I croak. I'm completely disoriented. I remember breaking my wrist, but nothing else. Oh, blood. I remember my blood dripping on the concrete next to my head. And I remember the coolness of Edward's hand against my face. Then nothing.

"What happened?" I ask, even though I know that it's pointless. My mom knows even less than I do.

"Shhh, Bella. You just had surgery. Get some sleep, Sweetie." I close my eyes and dream of cerulean and lavender tinted wildflowers scattered through an empty meadow under a grey-white sky. Everything is eerily still.

-0-

The next day it pours. Water comes down in the proverbial buckets, washing away the humidity and my blood down the pool's large drain. I'm stuck indoors as I don't want to get my cast wet. I stare out the window and watch the patterns the drops make on the pane, until I see a blur of black in my driveway. Skater Boy.

He doesn't have time to knock before I open the door wide open.

"Bella, are you okay?" I stare at him, hair plastered to the side of his face from the rain, though his clothes are mostly dry, including his suspenders that are hanging off his black jeans. "Who wears suspenders these days?" I wonder, though admittedly he's not actually really wearing them.

"Come in," I say and gesture towards the warmth of the house.

"Are you sure I'm welcome?" he asks humorlessly. I have no idea what happened between him and Jake after I blacked out. Was Jake pissed because he'd been using his pool? Who were those other skaters?

"Of course. I invited you in, didn't I?"

"I suppose you did," he murmurs with a half-smile.

We sit down in the living room, and I resist the urge to run my hand through his wet hair as he keeps doing repeatedly.

"What happened yesterday?" I ask him.

He shrugs his shoulder noncommittally. "Maybe you should ask Jake that."

And I will as soon as he answers my calls, but I'm still trying to figure out what I remember. I thought I had heard growling. _Did Jake phase in front of them?_ I didn't think he would just to protect his property. But maybe that's why Edward isn't answering me. Maybe he's too freaked out about my supernatural friend.

"Can I sign this?" he taps my blue cast with his long fingers.

"Sure. You'll be the first."

"_Your_ first," he smiles.

"Uh, yeah." I toss him a sharpie and even though I'm way off—hey, I had to throw with my non-dominant hand—he catches it smoothly.

He lightly holds onto my hand as he starts to draw on the rough texture of the cast, closer towards my elbow. "Oh. You're so cold! Do you want to go closer to the fire? Or do you want a towel?"

"I'm fine."

I watch his face intently as he continues to draw, mesmerized by the sharp angle of his jaw, the sparkle in his dark amber eyes.

"There," he says as he caps the pen. He looks up quickly towards the front window and stands up. "I need to go."

"You just got here," I protest.

"I know, I'm sorry. But I'll be back."

"Did you skate here? It's raining too hard. I can give you a ride." I start to get up but he shakes his head.

"I'll be fine. Besides, can you really drive with that thing?"

I shrug.

"I'll be back later." Before I can say anything else, he is up and out the door.

I look down at my cast to see what he's written on there. He's covered more of my cast than I originally thought. On one side, near my elbow, he's written 'Skate and Destroy' in the classic font. When I turn my palm up to the other half of my cast, I find that he's drawn a picture of the rising sun over the horizon, complete with shading. Below the sun is a heart with initials: IS + EMC. It's simple, and cheesy, but endearing just the same. Then I realize that I never told him that my full name is Isabella. _How did he know?_

Less than a minute later, there is knocking at my door. He's back.

I open the door, but instead of Skater Boy's smirk greeting me, Jake walks in quickly. "Jake," I say, happy to see him and throwing my arms awkwardly around him, being careful not to hit him with my cast. "Are you okay? What happened yesterday?"

"I'm fine," he says when I let go. I look him over and he doesn't look injured in any way. Edward looked fine too. Maybe there wasn't a physical fight. Maybe everyone cleared out after I broke my wrist. Suddenly, he freezes. "Wait here," he whispers urgently. He runs up the stairs and then back down and through the kitchen before coming back to me in the living room. I've just managed to close the front door and sit down in the time he does his lap.

"Who's been here?" he asks, nostrils flaring.

"What do you mean?" I ask, confused. "Just Edward. He was here earlier."

"What do you mean 'Just Edward'?" he roars, now. He takes a few deep breaths then continues more calmly. "He was here? Today?"

"Yes. What's the big—"

"Isabella Swan, please don't tell me you just invited a _vampire_ into your house?"

_Vampire?_

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><p><strong>AN:** Yup, I went there...actually I got so inspired by the stories being written for the Boys on Boards contest that I couldn't stop thinking about Edward as a skater vamp, and how no one would write it. There will be one or two more chapters to complete this story._  
><em>


	2. Chapter 2: Possessed to Skate

**Chapter Two: **_**Possessed **__**to Skate**_

Pieces of sky. Bits of blue, some fluffy white, but no direct sunlight. When Edward skates, it looks like pieces of the actual sky are flying up around him when he, in fact, is defying gravity instead.

I'm lying down at the bottom of the pool, using one of his boards as a makeshift pillow of sorts as he skates by me in every direction. Sometimes he flies off the board in several rotations, other times he slides the bottom across the rim of the pool, making a satisfying squeaking sound.

The smooth sliding sound of the wheels almost lulls me to sleep, except that I could never fall asleep watching Edward.

There is a loud snapping noise and I lift my head over to the far end of the pool where Edward is shaking his head slowly. After being around Jake many times while he skated this pool, I am familiar with the noise. A cracked board.

Edward places the pieces in the large duffel bag he brought with him as I move to stand to give him his remaining board.

"I break a lot of boards," he admits, somewhat sheepishly.

"That's what the spare is for, right?"

We share a smile and I am uncharacteristically graceful as I flip the board up into my hand. Jake used to go through a lot of boards too, especially when he had just started phasing. He was not yet used to his growing strength at the time. Nor controlling his anger, though he seemed much more in control of it than I would have thought after he told me stories his adopted dad had heard from the Quileute tribe. I jokingly called him "The Hulk" for a while after that.

I don't mention any of this to Edward, however. Though we have forged a friendship of sorts, I am not ready to introduce him to the supernatural.

Edward jumps down into the pool with a soft thud, then runs his hands through his hair. Like Jake, he refuses to use a helmet.

"Would you like me to show you some tricks?" he asks. I can't get used to how formal he sounds sometimes, whereas other times he sounds like any other skater boy.

"No, thank you. I've had enough broken bones." I smile and throw down his board anyway and skate quickly over to his side of the pool. "That's about all I can do."

Later I peek into Skater Boy's duffle and notice that he has more than one broken board in there. Expensive hobby for some people. "What are you going to do with these?" I ask. "I can recycle the wood for you if you like."

"No, thank you. I, uh, I can re-use some of the trucks and wheels. The boards—well, I can use those too." The shattered, sharp edges of wood shift around in his bag as he picks them up carefully while talking to me. I want to tell him to be careful of splinters with how quickly he's shifting them, but I realize it would sound silly to someone who doesn't even wear a helmet. Still, I picture the long parallel lines of pressed wood moving in all directions and I wonder what he might use them for.

-0-

Skater Boy is a vampire. A _vampire_. A vampire? How is that possible?

I'd seen him during the daytime. He doesn't have fangs. He'd been out in the sun without burning…okay, well, maybe I hadn't seen him in _direct_ sunlight, come to think of it. And…and…well, he didn't eat me or whatever. Suck my blood or something.

"Should we call first?" I ask as Jake drives at inhuman speeds.

"Nah. He'll know we're coming."

"How?"

"Trust me." I've heard those words before…and they rub me the wrong way. 'Trust me' is what Jake said to me when he tried to convince me we'd be better as _more_ than friends. Granted, he _stopped_ when I punched him, or tried to punch him, but his laughter didn't help.

"Jake," I say in my firmest voice. "What do you know?" Jake isn't one to hide secrets from me, not since I found out he was a shape-shifting werewolf supernatural being.

He sighs, then grips the steering wheel even tighter, if possible. "I swear I didn't know he was coming to visit you, Bella."

"Do you know Edward?"

"No. But my…family does."

"Your parents?"

"My biological family." The Quileutes.

Stories. Legends. Folktales. Myths. Reality.

"Oh."

"They say that one of them is psychic." _There's more than one vampire?_

"What?"

"She has precognition." _And it's a _girl_?_

"What?"

"You know…she can see the future and stuff. So she'll know we're coming."

"Jake," I say slowly, slightly exasperated. "I know what precognition means. I meant, what do you mean '_one_ of them'? There's more than just Edward?"

"There are seven of them."

"_Seven_ vampires?" I shriek. Was he trying to lure me into his…coven? Was I supposed to be their next _meal_? Do they share meals?

"Yeah."

"So those three…" I think of the three skaters from the other night, the ones who were apparently waiting for me at Jake's house the night I broke my wrist. The night I still have no details about.

"Vampires," he confirms.

"Did you fight them? Are they going to come back?"

He looks at me for a long moment, so long that I motion back to the road so he'll pay attention. He does, but doesn't answer my question. "Those three…they were…_different_. They weren't part of Edward's coven, family, whatever."

"Family?" My voice is a high-pitched shriek again, upon which I apparently have no control over.

"Look, Bella," he says. "Are you sure that you want to see him? We can still turn around."

"Maybe we should."

"Really?" he asks disbelievingly even though _he_ is the one who suggested going back to my house. He pulls over and I look around. We left the more crowded part of suburbia that I call home and have drifted into the hills that surround the county. There are still a lot of people who live in the area but the homes are farther apart and there are no streetlights on the well-paved road. "Will you just come back without me?"

"Maybe," I admit, knowing that my curiosity would get the better of me. I'd likely toss and turn in bed until I gave in to the urge to see him again and drive out by myself, even with my cast on.

"Let's just get this over with then." Jake smoothly turns back onto the road and we speed on into the night, yellow lines on the asphalt tugging and pulling us on our way.

-0-

Edward's house is beautifully understated. It's set apart from the woods, yet still has its own trees surrounding it. The overall architecture is modern, lightly stained wood with straight lines and lots of windows. There are some lights on within, yet we still can't see beyond some pale colored sofas in the front room, as if he or his family are hanging out in a back room somewhere. Although there are several landscaping lanterns scattered along the walkway leading up the steps to the main house, none of them are on.

"Do you want to wait in the car?" Jake asks. I glare at him and he backpedals. "Okay, just asking."

"I'm surprised you brought me here."

"I'm surprised you invited a vampire into your house," he counters.

"I didn't know he was a vampire!" I protest. "What does that mean anyway…that I invited him?" I've heard the myths—that he couldn't enter otherwise—but does it mean he can come and go as he pleases now? Or is that just Hollywood shaping my opinions?

"I know, I know," he says. For the first time tonight, he actually looks contrite. Not shocked, not angry, not tense, just contrite. "It's just that...I kind of feel like this is my fault."

"How?"

"Later," he says. "We can talk later. The bloodsucker likely can hear our every word." He nods towards the house.

I'm not sure what we're waiting for, anyway. We drove all this way, he insisted on taking me, and I need answers. Is he expecting us? Will the seer have told him we were coming? Does it even matter?

Or, more importantly, if he can hear us, why hasn't he come out himself?

We make our way up the pathway, and I squint my eyes, trying to see if I can see him through one of the numerous windows. "Hello," Jake calls out ahead of him. All I see is pitch black, or dark gray anyway, as I turn my head towards the front entrance. Instinctively, I slip one of my hands in Jake's.

Then, I notice Edward in the shadows, emerging slowly, carefully. Of course Jake would see him first, with his werewolf eyesight. I squeeze his hand gently, though I'm not feeling afraid, exactly.

Edward is beautiful. Like the first night I saw him, he is dressed in dark colors, faded black or almost gray. He blends into the night, even with its slightly less than full moon. How had I not noticed it before? He couldn't be a mere man.

"Hello, Jacob Black," he answers after a moment, likely to give me enough time to recognize that he's there. Has he been waiting? Or did I just miss him opening and shutting the door?

Jake and I continue to walk towards him until we're face to face. Edward's eyes are on Jake's the whole time, never acknowledging me until the moment we are inches apart. And, then, even then, all he does is stare intently at my left hand, the one intertwined with Jake's. After another prolonged moment, he follows the line of my hand, up my arm to my face and finally looks me directly in the eye. "Bella Swan," he states.

"Skater Boy."

"Nice to see you again." _Nice to see you again_, as if he hasn't written all over my cast, or my soul. As if he doesn't know that I just found out that he's a vampire.

I have so much that I want to ask, so much that I want to say that I cannot figure out what to say first. "Um…so, you're a vampire?" Yeah, not the best opening.

He guffaws, actually _guffaws_ at my question, then smirks and turns to Jacob _as if I'm not even there._ "She's taking this well."

Jacob smiles politely. I know this smile. He isn't giving anything away. "Yeah, this is pretty much how she reacted when I told her I was a shapeshifter and descended from wolves." He's lying. I was uncharacteristically hysterical, albeit partly due to the fact that I fractured my fingers on his face.

"Can we talk?" Edward asks, turning to me.

"What?"

"May I speak with you, in private?"

"Hey," Jake interjects, as he puts up the hand I'm not gripping towards Edward. "I'm not comfortable leaving you alone with her."

"If I was going to drain her, I would have done so already," he states simply.

Edward is still talking mostly as if I'm not there. Or as if Jacob is my keeper. Maybe he is. Maybe _that's_ what this is about. Maybe that's why Jacob feels like Edward being a vampire is his fault. Or, Edward finding me.

"I think it's okay, Jacob." I'm not sure why, but I trust Skater Boy. Skater Vamp? Whatever. Edward, I trust Edward. Even though he's lied to me, so has Jacob.

"No," Jacob answers.

"You don't trust me."

"I don't."

"Even after yesterday?"

"No."

"Okay," Edward answers. "Why don't you both come in for a bit then. I'll show you my studio."

"It's upstairs," he says and leads us through the kitchen towards a spiral stairway. _What does a vampire need a kitchen for?_ I wonder to myself and stop mid-stride to take in the Viking stove and stainless steel appliances including an extra-wide refrigerator. For catering, I presume. _Are there dead bodies in there? _

Jake laughs in front of me. He's been walking between me and Skater Boy, I presume to ensure my safety. Edward shakes his head and walks past me to open one of the behemoth doors. "No," he says and gestures inside. "Just bottled water. Would you like one?"

Oh. I said that out loud. I flush and nod my head while taking in the multiple rows of bottled water. What would he need them for?

"Strawberry-infused okay?" After I nod my assent, he twists open the cap for me and then hands me the bottle. I self-consciously take a small swig then place it back on the counter. I need my non-casted hand to help me up the stairs.

We make it to the landing and I only catch a glimpse of the second floor but I can already tell that the dark wood and sleek lines run throughout the whole house, reminiscent of the kitchen. Soft white fabrics with hints of apple green sprinkled throughout complete the look.

"Beautiful house," I say.

"Thanks," Skater Boy nods in acknowledgement. "My mom is an interior decorator. She'll be delighted to know you liked it."

Family indeed. Can you have a mom when you're a vampire? He'd said that he was adopted. Did she _create_ him, change him, or whatever word you'd use. Did she _kill_ him? Or has he always been a vampire? Suddenly I feel better that Jake _is _by my side. Though I have a feeling that Edward would never harm me, I realize just how out of my element I am. I don't think I had this many questions when I first found out about Jake's shapeshifting ways. Somehow that makes much more sense to me.

We get to the third floor studio and I am the only one who is winded. I take a moment to catch my breath as Jake suddenly is talking animatedly to Edward, gesturing to some of the sculptures on display.

It's easy to see why. Edward has taken his broken up boards and refurbished them into art. The layers of plywood are fitted together to form a leg in mid-run, a body with arms stretched out a la DaVinci, a torso. The tones of the various pieces of wood mimic the color of flesh, the muscle build smooth, yet realistic all at once.

"Here I was inspired by that anatomy art exhibit," he explains to Jake, pointing out a detached sculpted arm suspended by wire, with the hand attached to an actual skateboard as if he caught the skater mid-trick, catching air off the rim of a ramp.

"Except without killing actual humans," Jake interjects.

"Exactly."

"I thought they donated their bodies," I murmur to myself. They both hear me anyway. Vampiric hearing, werewolf hearing. I'm just human.

"But did they know what they were getting into?"

"Yeah," Jake adds. "Most people don't notice that the anatomy is similar for all of the cadavers…because the donors came from the same tribe."

I ponder their words for only a moment because the two of them have turned the corner in the studio, and Jake lets out a loud and joyous "whoop". "That's killer!" he says, clapping Edward on the back, from the sound of it.

Skater Boy's house has several trees framing both the front and the back. One side of his studio opens up to a balcony and one of the trees has branches that almost connect to the deck even though we are on the third floor. I follow them out of the studio to the open deck balcony that has an inviting fire in the outdoor fireplace already lit. I smile when I see what Jake is excited about.

On the wall facing the fireplace is a large mosaic portrait of Nintendo's Mario on the cover of Thrasher magazine, made completely out of chipped, recycled boards.

I shake my head at how quickly skater boys bond, even if they are sworn enemies. The night is getting cooler and I settle on one of the cushioned lounge chairs closer to the fire. I may as well settle in while they talk shop.

"Let me explain to her," Skater Boy says after a while. "Alone." It's like he's asking permission from my chaperone to be alone with me even though I'm sitting right there. As if I'm helpless, though I guess I _am _the only human in the house. Still.

"I'm right here," I say. "What if I want Jake to stay?"

He looks over to where I'm sitting and shrugs. "Whatever you prefer, of course."

Jake catches his eyes and seems to approve of him. "Bells?"

"You can go, Jake," I respond. "I trust him."

"I do too," he concedes. "Don't make me regret this." I'm uncertain if he's saying the last part to Edward or me, but he hugs me quickly anyway and then follows Edward down the stairs as he shows him out of the house.

It only takes seconds before Edward is back at the deck, pulling out a bottle of wine and one glass from the bar area. "Would you care for a glass?"

"Um…"

"It might make it easier to hear what happened."

"Okay."

In the end, the battle between Skater Boy and the three strangers—the three _vampires_—who wanted to kill me is not of much interest to me. What's more interesting is the fact that Edward's sister, the one with precognition, has had intermittent visions of me for _years_.

"Why would she see me?"

"Because you're my…you're important to me." He traces the heart he drew on my cast with our initials on it. "Isabella."

"So that's how you knew my full name."

"Yes."

"And that's how you knew those other...vampires would be at Jake's house."

"Yes. I'm sorry that I was late. I'm sorry about this." He slides his hand further along my cast, then caresses my fingers.

"Edward—"

"No. I know. Alice, my sister, her visions aren't perfect. And she stopped seeing you for…almost a year, until Jake's family moved out."

Almost a year. There was almost a year between when Jake discovered his shapeshifting capabilities and when they lost their house.

"Then she'd only see flashes…"

"So, did she see me here, at your house?"

"No," he smiles. I notice the left side of his lips lift slightly higher than the right, and I like it.

"Does she _see_ any other humans, Skater Boy?"

"Only you," he smiles. "Only you, Bella."

We sit outside for a long time, and though I should be heading home, I stay at Edward's house and we talk until the first rays of light start to appear. Edward manages the fire, tossing new logs in when necessary, and after half a glass of wine, he brews a pot of coffee for me. He doesn't want me to go home.

I learn a little bit about the supernatural world—about treaties and vampire royalty—and a lot about the vampires whom Skater Boy calls his family. The Cullens. The most important thing I learn that night? That the future isn't set in stone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** 1) _Possessed to Skate _is a song by Suicidal Tendencies,

2) Edward's artwork in this chapter is inspired by the Harvest by Haroshi: Skate and Destroy exhibit (slamxhype(dot)com/art-design/harvest-by-haroshi-exhibition-skate-destroy-recap)

3)I'm so sorry for the lengthy delay-suffice it to say that I haven't had much sleep over the past six months thanks to my toddler. It turns out that I need sleep to write cohesively. Most of these scenes were written last summer but I've just now got my writing mojo back to connect the dots together. So, the final chapter of S&D will be posted next week sometime. Thanks for sticking with me.


	3. Chapter 3: Skate or Die

**Sheepish A/N**: I'm sorry—I thought that I'd already posted this final chapter months ago.

Recap: Bella meets Edward/Skater Boy in the empty swimming pool next door, which happens to be Jake's old house. She later discovers that Edward is a vampire when a nomad group of SkaterVamps tries to attack her. Jake, her werewolf best friend, drives Bella to Edward's house to confront him where they discover his artwork and they learn more about each other.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: <em>Skate or Die<em>**

Parents and teachers could never understand.  
>My disdain for their authority.<br>Career and a future didn't interest me.  
>I'd rather skate instead, I need to be free!<p>

I'll skate or, I'll skate or, I'll skate or die!

_Skate or Die_—Bones Brigade

"Date me," Edward states again, for possibly the fourth or fifth time, but who's really keeping track? He's sitting across from me at the tree house table, where we had our first meal together. Well, where I ate the sprouts sandwich that he brought me.

My English textbook is spread open and I'm trying to write notes with my left hand in the margins. He's been accompanying me here all week while I try to get my homework done without my mom hovering over me and my cast. Suddenly, this old tree house has a new purpose: a sanctuary, a library, a meeting place.

"You want me to write for you?" he offers, holding his hand out.

"I'm sure you've studied Frost quite a bit, huh?" I say, not giving up my pencil. I don't need anyone to write my notes for me, even if it takes three times as long for me to do it myself and my writing looks like a kindergartner's.

"Some," he smiles. "So…you still haven't answered my questions."

"No. To both," I respond. "And 'date me' is not really a question." More like a command? Request? Plea?

"I _asked _you if I could take you out on a date when I first walked in here."

"And I answered you."

"Maybe I don't like your answer." Skater Boy says, laughing. All smiles, no pressure. He gets up and snatches his board from the corner of the tree house and places it wheels up on the table. He's moving at human pace, so I watch him carefully as he sleekly bends over, his suspenders swinging from side to side as they hang from his dark grey jeans.

He somehow pulls a tool out and fiddles with the trucks and wheels on the board before pausing to look at me. He knows he has my full attention and I watch as he purposefully blinks his amber-colored eyes, long lashes fluttering. Stupid vampire. "Date me?" he whispers.

I roll my eyes and don't answer.

"It's not as if I'm asking you to marry me."

"We just met."

"In person," he corrects. "I've known about you for years."

Yeah, like that's not creepy at all…except it's _not_ because there is a certain something between us that I cannot deny. And, it isn't his fault that his sister has precognition.

"Fine," I say. "One date."

He simply says a polite "thank you" and flicks one of the sets of wheels on his board. The snapping constant sound makes me smile against my will; it's familiar and not all at once.

-0-

Edward shows up for our date unexpectedly. I thought that once I agreed, we would hash out the details, the time, the place. Instead, he shows up one day afterschool, skateboard in one hand, a bouquet of pink Mylar balloon hearts in the other.

"Ummm…" I say when I'm a few steps away from him.

"Too much?"

I don't want to hurt his feelings but I don't want to encourage him to repeat this action. "A bit."

"I know," he says, shrugging and handing me the bouquet anyway. "Alice."

"Are you going to blame her for everything?"

"No. Ready for our date?"

"Now?"

"Yeah."

"Um. Am I dressed okay?" I'm wearing a torn-up old pair of jeans and the same dark blue peasant top that I wore after the first night I met him. The night of a blue-tinted dream. He, on the other hand, is dressed in a white button down and far nicer jeans.

"You look perfect."

He holds his hand out for me and I'm tempted to shove the balloon strings back at him, but instead I switch them to my casted hand and intertwine my fingers with his. To my surprise, he walks us to some fancy-looking sports car. It's dark blue with tinted windows and what looks like a British license plate.

"You didn't think we were going on my board, did you?"

I shake my head at him. He's going all out. In fact, he opens the door for me, places my backpack, the balloons and his board in the trunk, then settles into the driver's seat.

"Do I get to know where we're going?"

"I've heard that new Italian restaurant has excellent mushroom ravioli."

"Will you be eating?"

Skater Boy smirks and eyes me up and down quickly. "No."

"Isn't it too early for dinner?"

"We're going somewhere else first," he says. "Now get your seat belt on, please."

I have barely complied with his request when he revs the engine and we're off. He's not holding back at all.

-0-

We spend a year together, Edward and I. A year of skating, holding hands on long walks, hiking to find hot springs, stolen moments away from the sun. A year of firsts: melting ice cream cones for him, snowboarding lessons and mountain trips for me, making love together.

Edward continues his sculptures, and adds sketches of me to the mix when I refuse to let him make a three-dimensional version of me. He makes outstretched arms from broken up boards, and abstract shapes of metal and clay.

When our year is up, I say it simply.

"It's over."

"Okaaay," he answers slowly, eyebrows furrowed so I'm uncertain if he understands or not. I mean, he has a sister who can see the future, so he had to know, right?

"I'm breaking up with you," I clarify. "I'm sorry." When he doesn't answer except for a small nod of acceptance, I continue, "Lots of couples break up at the end of high school."

"Okay," he answers again. "But…I think I deserve an explanation at the very least."

This is where it gets tricky. I don't have the best explanation.

"Isabella," he says, and I know he's serious. He only uses my full name when he's angry or else in softer moments when he's blissed out after sex and he says my name reverently as we lay in bed together afterwards. A teasing, lilting voice. Now "Isabella" sounds foreign, tense, fearful and accepting all at once.

"If you want to see other people now that you're starting college, that's fine. If you just want to be free to meet others, that's fine. If you just don't…_love_ me anymore, that's fine too. But. I. Deserve. An. Explanation."

We're angled towards each other, sitting sort of side by side on his couch in mirroring poses. His elbows are on his knees and he's leaning forward as he keeps eye contact with me, gaze intense and unmoving. He's never looked more like a vampire to me than at this moment. Yet I am unafraid.

"I love you, Edward, that isn't it."

"Then what—"

I hold up my hand to ask him to give me time to organize my thoughts. "I…I just don't see us growing old together."

"I don't age, Bella."

"I know."

-0-

We have sex for the last time. It sounds so stupid, but it's true. When my friend Jessica broke up with Mike, they did the same thing and I scoffed at her. But, this, this is Edward and me. It's not angry or tearful, it just is. It's one last time, a goodbye.

The next day as I'm re-organizing my closet, deciding what to give away, leave at home or take to the dorms with me, I hear the familiar sound of wheels on concrete. It's similar to last year when I first met Edward, except this time it must be Jake or Seth in the pool.

I resist the urge to go over there, just in case it's Skater Boy and I carefully climb up into the treehouse instead. And I'm right, sort of. It_ is_ Edward. I watch him skate for several long minutes, even when he makes eye contact with me. I'm not really hiding; I know he can recognize my presence here whether or not he can see me. I just cannot confront him if I want to move on.

The next three days, Edward avoids skating in the empty pool next door, but he skates by the front of my house. Repeatedly. For hours. Finally I come out of the house before my dad accuses him of being a stalker, even though he kind of is.

"What happened to 'good-bye'?" I ask as I walk out barefoot to the sidewalk. The grass is spiky and slightly underwatered beneath my feet. The somewhat irritating and itchy feeling grounds me, literally, so I know I can say what needs to be said. Edward skates to a stop directly in front of me. I can feel my parents' eyes watching us from the windows.

"What do you mean?" he asks innocently.

"You know what I mean. My parents think you're stalking me."

"And you?"

"Kinda." I cross my arms in front of my chest. He's beautiful, slightly disheveled but beautiful and I love him. But, but I have to do this. For my own sanity. It's selfish, but sometimes your own self _should_ come first. A life with a vampire would never work. Or, who am I kidding? He would tire of me in a few years or when he found his mate and I would be left even more broken-hearted than I already am. A girl has to have _some_ sense of self-preservation.

"I apologize. I did say that I wanted you to live your life and I do. But, but…you're _mine_, Bella."

But I'm not. I'm not his. I am not a possession, a pet. I'm merely a human girl, and this is as far as our relationship can take us.

"I truly am sorry," he continues when I don't answer. "I won't 'stalk' you anymore."

I walk back toward my house slowly, hoping he understands now why I had to break things off. I can see the curtains in the living room shake close. What can I do but walk away from him with my life?

-0-

Our first time together isn't exactly what I had expected. In a good way. My cast has just come off—yes I've barely known him that many weeks—but time is just a number. I'm crouching near him on the bed, mimicking what I imagine him to look like while hunting: on all fours like a mountain lion about to pounce gracefully on its prey.

He laughs at me, of course. "Come here, kitten," he says. So I climb over to where he's lying down. He laughs one more time, then kisses me quickly before pulling off my tee-shirt. See? Gracefully.

I smile through my kisses until they become more passionate, then I sit down more properly on him.

He's hard, of course. He's a vampire. My lips are on his, wet, warm, delicious, and I think we're in for another marathon dry humping session when he sighs.

"Mmm, I love your backside." His hands slide up to underneath my short shorts, slipping beneath my underwear, gently, carefully, as if to prove his point. Tingles. Nerve endings. Soft and cool.

"My backside?" I lift my face away from his.

"Yes, your _backside_."

"What is it? My _back_ or my _side_?"

"This."

"You mean my _ass_?" I laugh, goading him.

He flips me over then so I'm on my back, laughing next to him and it's a rush of dirty talk and sweet nothings he's whispering urgently as my shorts and black lace panties disappear. Then it's his long cool fingers and surprisingly warm tongue and I just can't take both at once, but yes I can and do until everything is black and loud and silent all at the same time even though his husky voice is still whispering something into my ear.

Edward looks at me questioningly and then there are no questions as I lift my arms towards him and he crawls on top of me. He's slow, careful, reverent and mindful and I remind myself to relax, relax, relax or it will hurt more and relax, it's Edward, after all. We're silent until he's fully in and then he pauses for a moment or two, three, four….then takes a careful, short breath.

"Bella?"

"Yes?" I'm tense despite my reminders.

"I thought you were a virgin?"

What? He's not serious, is he? Did he not notice the past few minutes?

"I _am_. Er, I _was_."

"You _were_ once upon a time or you were…more recently?"

I laugh. Now I'm relaxed and my body reflexively pulls him in closer. "I _was_ five minutes ago."

He kisses me quickly on the lips and explains. "There's no blood."

"Have you seen your fingers?" He smirks. "Besides, not everyone bleeds."

-0-

Three years pass and I no longer feel the connection. I still love him, that's not what I mean. I moved for college to New Hampshire—the northeast being about the farthest I could get from Southern California, although I suppose he could have always quit school to follow me here. He definitely didn't need _another_ degree.

But the _pull_ left me a few months ago and I can't quite figure that out. I'm not sure if he's waiting in the wings or not, like he promised, but I haven't heard from him. And on the rare occasion that I hear from one of his family, we don't talk about him. Ever.

"Hello?"

"He's not here." Rosalie answers my call. Of course. The one least likely to welcome me.

"Who?"

"Edward…he's with Tanya...his _mate._"

_Mate?_

"Yeah. Tanya." Oh, I must have said that out loud. _Mate?_ He's found someone. He's moved on. No, he hasn't _just_ moved on, he's found his mate, his soul mate, his life partner, for eternity. His family must be so happy for him. _I_ want to be happy for him.

"Um, I wasn't calling for Edward. I'm looking for Carlisle."

"He's at the hospital."

"Oh," I say. I'm so eloquent here, but Rose is giving me nothing. As usual. "Um, can you just put Alice on?"

"Alice and Jasper have gone off on their own for a bit. Try her cell." She hangs up.

I don't call Alice. I can't hear about Edward and his mate, no matter how much I want him to be happy. I just can't.

-0-

When the bus pulls into town, we drive past a small art gallery that looks somewhat like a modern log cabin with red trim. In the front walkway is a large, mobile, metal red sculpture, reminiscent of Alexander Calder's work. I'm intrigued to see this piece in such a small town and I make note to visit the museum.

In fact, as soon as we are settled in to the B&B, I leave Leah and Vanessa behind and go for a solitary walk through town. The day is still; the sculpture is as well. As I approach, I look around at the people passing by the gallery but not entering. Is it closed? There are lights on, so I wander in after checking the sign next to the sculpture. Alexander Calder. I was right.

"Hello," a woman with light red hair, not quite blonde, not quite red, straightened to perfection greets me. She walks around from behind a small desk located at the front of the gallery. "We're just about to close but—"

She pauses and seems to stumble a bit, but I know better. After all my time with Edward, I recognize the bright yellow of her eyes, the milky white of her unblemished skin. Despite the reassuring color of her eyes, I take one step backwards. Whether it's subconscious or not, I don't know this vampire so I don't trust her. Yet, I do not run.

"You're here," she continues.

"Yes, do you mind if I just take a quick look?"

"Take your time." She gestures towards the small gallery to my left and I watch her walk towards a set of glass doors that lead out from behind the building. She's in perfect contrast to me, with her long legs, vampire perfection, pale yellow silk blouse and dark grey dress pants. I remember that Edward and his family like to fit in with humans as well and I suppose that this is why she is working in a gallery. Unless she owns it, or is an artist herself.

I shake my head and wander in to the gallery and note the exhibit name, _Brown Study_. The artists aren't named, but it does not matter. When I walk into the first space, I know exactly who the artist is.

Though the materials are different, the style is the same. A life-size rusted metal silhouette of a woman, long hair depicted in three curvy lines. Several abstract paintings of tree houses, one with warm reds and browns and a fiery orange sunset in the background. Dark brown lines, mixed with hues of crimson and blonde, like a tree trunk in the fall. Or like thick waves of hair. And photographs of a meadow set up all against a wall, one by one by one so that each photo seems to depict one day to the next.

I know that meadow. It's where Skater Boy took me on our first date, and many subsequent ones as well. I walk up closer to get a better look. Even in black and white, I can recognize every tree in front of me, and the space of grass in front of them.

"It's the first hundred days you were gone," a voice calls quietly from behind me. Though I haven't heard him approach, I'm not startled that he is here.

"Edward," I say as I turn to face him. He stands at the entrance to the exhibit, both hands tucked into a loose pair of black pants, his light grey v-neck sweater just slightly askew. If a vampire could lose weight, I'd say that he has.

"Though they wouldn't all fit on the wall but that's most of them," he continues as if I haven't said anything at all. Though, I suppose, simply saying his name isn't much of a greeting, especially after four years apart.

His eyes are dark, with light purple bruises underneath, almost like the remnants of twin black eyes. He looks like he's _aged_. Yet….yet, he is still beautiful, so beautiful to me that I can feel my heart plummet despite its increasing rate. I feel flushed, excited, confused, worried, and just something _more_ all at once. Something _more_ than just empty.

"They're beautiful," I say.

"Ask me why only a hundred."

"I…I can't—" I start. I'm confused. Is he making small talk about his exhibit? Does he really want me to ask? "I can't do this." I turn to walk towards him, or around him, so that I can leave the gallery and head back to the B&B. Even though I want to talk to Edward, I'm not sure what there is left to say. It's been four years. He's moved on, just as I wanted him to. But, have I?

Before I can take another step, Edward is in front of me. "It's not how I pictured this, I…I apologize." He holds his arm out, slightly hesitant just for a moment, until I step into his embrace as I would have under other circumstances. "How are you, Bella?"

"I'm good. You?" I take one small step back out of his arms. He's as cold as ever. I've missed it; I've missed _him_. Though the thought really isn't much of a revelation to me, it surprises me nonetheless. The break-up was, after all, my decision.

He doesn't answer my question. "What are you doing here, in the Pacific Northwest?" He gestures grandly across the room.

"After graduation, my friends and I have been traveling, well, backpacking a bit across the country. Um, Jake wanted to meet his biological parents so he's north of here, but my other two friends and I are in Olympia for awhile."

His eyes narrow slightly and he steps further away from him so we are no longer in each other's personal space. "Jake? You're with Jake?"

"Yeah," I pause for a moment. _ How do you explain imprinting to another supernatural creature?_ "He, um, well, his girlfriend is one of my best friends and he's a little _protective_ of her, so wasn't that comfortable with the three of us girls traveling mostly on our own. So he sort of joined us for a chunk of the trip."

"He imprinted." My jaw drops. "He couldn't let his imprint travel alone," he continues while I'm still absorbing his first statement. "He followed her."

"Um, how do you know about that?"

Skater Boy shrugs his shoulders and laughs for a brief second or two. "I thought he imprinted on _you_. You know, back when he first changed?"

"You didn't even know me then."

"Alice." Yes, Alice. His future-seeing sister, my one time friend. She'd been seeing me for years before I actually met Edward. Did she see his mate too? Lead him to her after I left him? Do they huddle down underneath tall dining room tables during rainstorms, listening to new music and staying up all night? No, they wouldn't call it 'staying up' all night because they wouldn't need to sleep. And, and…Edward…is he happy now?

I remember days of joy together. Mixing various shades of sunshine yellow, amber, and the exact shade of Meyer lemons and debating his next painting project. Days of snapping boards, just to see what sculpture would be hinted at next. Running, tripping, and even dancing freely at our meadow, spots of vibrant orange poppies at our feet. And, then me, realizing that when I started at Dartmouth, Edward would be going to college _again_ for the sixth or seventh time.

No, it's good I let him go.

"I'd heard you found your mate." My voice is brave, strong, confident.

He nods his head, merely confirming what I already know, but still, _still_ my heart drops. It's why I left him, after all, or one of the reasons, anyway. I wanted him to find himself, and to find _her_. After decades of being the odd man out in a family of couples, he deserved to find his soul mate. And though I loved him—_still_ love him—and I know that our year together meant something to him as well, I also could never see how things would work out between a vampire and a human.

"She's lovely," I nod my head in the direction the female vampire walked off to in the gallery, finally recognizing what her presence here at the gallery means.

"Bella," he pauses. "_You_ are my mate."

His words reach my ears but make no sense to me. I hear ringing, blackness, nothing. They are so opposite of what I believe to be true that I robotically nod in agreement before pausing as the meaning registers.

"_You_ are my soul mate."

I was a distraction, something to fill in the time between his decades of loneliness. Why is he saying this?

Yes, we loved each other. Yes, I'm sure having relations, a relationship, with a human could be intriguing, novel, for a little while. But then you have to move on, right?

We wouldn't grow old together. I would grow old, and while I'm not so vain as to care whether I was older than him, it would get ridiculous later on in life. Or, I would give in and he would still meet another woman. A vampire. Someone he could spend forever with. Someone like Tanya.

"But, Rose said…" I falter. I'm not sure how long I have been processing his words. I do know that Tanya has given us the courtesy of privacy for a good long time.

"Rose lied."

Two simple words. How does he even know what I am talking about? Oh, yeah, the mind-reading. Or, maybe Rose told him. But, if it mattered to him, why wait 'til now to tell me?

"What?" I say, confused.

"If Rose told you that someone other than you is my mate, she lied."

I can't help it. I can taste the saltiness of my tears as they stream silently down my cheeks and onto my lips. There aren't many, and I don't bother wiping them away with my hands. I don't know how to respond to him. We've been apart for nothing? Why is he just telling me this now? Did he assume I knew?

It boils down to the fact that I asked him to leave me alone, and he did. Maybe four years ago I wasn't ready to deal with what eternity means for a vampire. And, maybe I'm not ready to deal with it now either. But, I do know that we need to talk.

"Why only a hundred days?" I ask quietly, turning my attention back to the stark contrast of our meadow in black and white during the summer. The grass is dead, the trees are full, and we, of course, are nowhere in sight.

"I followed you to Dartmouth at the end of the summer."

"What?"

"I stayed near you for your first three years…not stalking you, I swear," he smiles slightly, sheepishly. "I…I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Like Jake and Vanessa," I whisper. He nods in agreement.

"My family wasn't happy with me. They finally convinced me to move elsewhere…that…that I wasn't helping _you_ by being there."

This time I nod, though I don't fully understand what he is saying. When you've believed one truth for so long, it's hard to wrap your head around another. The pull that had been gone for a year—it disappeared with his lack of proximity but returned full force as soon as I walked into the gallery and recognized his work.

Brown Study. A mood of deep absorption. A reverie. Of me. No, of us.

"Edward? What does this mean for us? I mean, now. What does this all mean for us now?"

"Whatever you want, love," he says.

"What?"

"It means whatever you want it to mean. I still love you. I will always love you."

I focus now on the rusted metal sculpture in one corner of the room. Her waves of hair a familiar hint of my own. Brown, sickly orange, silver gray—scars follow the silhouette of her body, splashes of life, of _years_ that have aged her. But still she is beautiful due to the capable hands of the artist. Skater Boy. He'd been alone for so long before he met me. What does one year mean to a vampire who has lived for over eighty? It's everything.

"Okay," I reply, holding out my hand now to his.

"Okay?"

"Okay." He threads his cooler fingers with mine and we walk out of the gallery together. As we step out of the gallery doors, Edward snatches up his board just outside the entrance. I hadn't noticed it on my way in, but it makes me smile. We walk back towards the B&B, hand in hand, wheels turning with the rhythm of our gait.

I don't have any answers as to how we can live our lives together, disparate as they may be. I only know that our time together will be beautiful.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** 1) _Skate or Die_ by Bones Brigade (www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=KrFHAuXSMsE)

2) brown study: a mood of deep absorption or thoughtfulness; reverie

3) Sorry this is so delayed-I really thought I posted it already. Also, it was always meant to be a series of 'moments', so sorry if it seems a bit disjointed. Thanks for reading!


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